Editing Bound Fate (Warhammer High) (section)

===Teenagers===
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"Superb." The ceiling light flicked back on, revealing the broken remains of the chair and the shattered fluorbulb, as well as Doug, Callie, Chucho, Ev and a needle full of mixed cleaning fluid and lubricant.

"Do you have his signal?" Vin nodded in affirmation. Already clad in his black plaskin bodyglove and loaded for bear, Vin left via the preweakened and now-broken window, silent as a cat and just as fast.

"That was AWESOME!" The cry came equally from Janus and Violet, who now bounced about the room like excited puppies, gathering what little evidence remained of their collective presence.

"Enough. This is now an official combat operation." Doug turned and headed for the stairs.

At that the group moved as one, with unrelenting purpose. The building was nearly bare in minutes, reeking of acid and cleaner. Not a single trace of DNA or psychic presence would be left after tonight. The airvan's internal racks were loaded to full with all manner of equipment: surveillance gear of every kind, a pair of cogitator gauntlets, two netfly antrae, various auspexes, audio bugs, sticky remote augurs, a bulky siege auspex, a viewer and even a holo projector.

Weapons abounded as well: needlers and laspistols, Callie's neural shredder, Ev's lovingly detailed Executioner pistol, an ominous black sphere and a glistening black sword, seeming to squirm and writhe, and more still, sealed and locked away. None of it had been authorized for use on their current mission, and so it would all remain nearby only as an absolute last resort. 

Instead, Officio Tutamentum Protection Force One, designation Atrisangues, began laying out the mission gear. Simple stub pistols and rifles, selected for their unassuming appearance and reliability; dull black knives and extra armor to be worn under the plaskin, created by spraying light athletic gear with commercial-grade synskin. None of the gear requisitioned for this mission, if recovered, could be traced back to the Officio or any publicly known or unknown Adeptus Terra Officio. The time came to finally suit up for combat, and as one they paused.

In all the frenetic months they had been together as a mission force they had performed only infiltration, capture, remote assassination, intelligence assessment and unbidden escort missions. The dawn of the school year had finally driven their master, ever the practical perfectionist, to finally relent that actual combat operation experience would be necessary. The reconnaissance Doug had performed Friday night was but a precursor to a much larger goal. Vanus-borne intelligence from their larger sister office indicated that 80% of the Slide trade was centralized under one group or individual. Peripherally, an estimated 20% of the hive's Administratum, including the Arbites, Officio Medicae, Senatorum and Treasury were corrupted, the Treasury carrying less than a 0.7% probability of any corruption.

The data was gathered redundantly by no less than three infocytes, a simple matter for their level of ability, and further triply heuristically cogitated to less than 0.1% margin of error.  The inter-office invoice amounted to 3.7 million credits, primarily in data transmission and estimated loss of Imperial assets as a result of the operatives' fifteen-minute diversion. A list of so prognosticated distribution and production locations was provided to the group. Between Callie's social engineering, Chucho and Vin's tracking skills, Violet's knowledge of chemical storage and production time frames and, finally, Doug and Janus' localized information projection modeling, the list was further refined and narrowed. 

Ev then posed as a junkie or prospective corner dealer several times, gathering yet more intelligence to strengthen the projections. The Friday night reconnaissance, raid and seizure was part of a multi-pronged beta test of the modeling, aimed primarily at dealers located near schools and residential family areas. Each dealer was located where expected and dealt with: Arbites officials in command of the individual prosecutions of all but one case were found to be corrupt. The single exception was Patrolman Idiam Thar who executed his own Commander after discovering proof of corruption. He was, unfortunately, taken into custody immediately afterward. 

The statistics bothered them greatly that, in every precinct or area in which a centralized Slide dealer was found, the Arbites was corrupted. It was far beyond the wildest statistical correlation, pointing to an enormous and long-planned operation of incredible subtlety and sophistication. Thus, rather than pass the information on to the Arbites before pursuing matters more relevant to their operation parameters, the group reanalyzed and reaffirmed their data. They then presented the findings to their master. He agreed that, by the new, field-refined intelligence, pursuing and destroying the remnants of the centralized Slide trade fell well within the scope of their mission, and finally authorized combat operations as an allowed element of their future scenario planning.

And so it was that a group of teenagers who'd been living and working together nearly every day for almost their entire lives became apprehensive, for this was the first time all but one of them would be undressing in front of any of the others.





An incredibly awkward moment, filled with rapid glances and eye aversions, drew on for a slow eternity, eating into their preplanned strike time.

"Ev, Chucho, that side of the van; Violet, sorry, but you and Callie on that side; Janus, help me put on the syngear."

Doug was the first to undress after giving the orders, oddly reminded of Friday night as he deftly removed his shirt, stepped out of his boots and dropped his pants. Callie took one hard look and received a stern stare in return.

"Ooh, I didn't know you were that hairy ''all'' over. Rrow-ahh!" Violet tugged her harshly around to their side of the van.

"Come on Callie, I'll do you first... damnit." A loud smack, palm on forehead, echoed through the cavernous structure. Callie just smirked and began removing her clothing as casually and quickly as she had earlier that day. In short, almost synchronized motions clothes on either side of the van were removed.

"Callie! You don't need to take it all off!" Violet's voice was louder than she intended, and more disconcerted than alarmed, a fact she would never admit.

Doug snapped his fingers moments before Janus finished turning his head around enough to see.

Every prospective item was selected for a low profile, flexibility and light weight, intended to be nothing more than a vehicle for the synskin. A syn'd thermal hood, shoulder pads, gloves, thigh pads, knee rolls, neck roll, elbow rolls, hip pads, tailbone pad and rib pads were donned in short order, and the store-bought, well-fitted plaskin slid over them easily. 

Ev and Violet in a rare–and jubilant for the former–moment of cooperation had worked together on designing a commercially available, field-assembled alternative to Officio-grade synskin that couldn't be traced to them from its chemical or structural components. Minor modifications to the commercial-grade Powerfilm© brand synskin brought its durability up to near Officio-grade, at the sacrifice of some of its strength-enhancing and most of its agility-enhancing properties. The syngear adhered firmly to bare skin, while allowing the plaskin to slide freely over it. Doug found he could move easily despite the sheer number of pads and felt out the minor physical enhancements.

''So far, so good.'' He changed places with Janus, maintaining the same orientation away from the van.

"Dude! How are your hands so cold?" Ev shouted, and the others could almost hear Chucho's apologetic nod.
"I like what I'm hearing over there, Chucho! And I like what I'm seeing here Violet, we should hang out more..." Callie's voice was dripping with suggestion.

Violet suddenly squealed. "Ah! Callie! That tickles! Stop it!"

A firm hand kept Janus' eyes forward, and a firmer reprimand kept him on task. Still, Doug had to admit Callie's banter and catcalls had all but nullified the tension and awkwardness of suddenly intimidating puberty and pre-mission jitters. ''I'll have to talk to her about directing her verbal skills to more productive ends.''

Doug thought for a moment about which of the many, many ways she would turn that wording into innuendo, and resolved to modify it later. The plaskin sealed neatly over Janus' skinny back, but even for a boy as rawboned as him the combination of syngear and black plaskin had a flattering effect. The group returned to to picking up tools, now stealing glances and looks ranging from curious to longing at each other. None were surprised in the least to see Callie taking in the sights, except Janus, who nearly fainted when she winked at him.

"Cute butt." An elbow to the rib and a small smile got the boy moving again, his motions quickened by elation.
 
Callie turned her gaze finally to Violet as she snugged the stub pistol into its holster and slung the autorifle over her shoulder. Callie couldn't decide whether to be jealous or appreciative of the shorter girl's fuller hips and chest. She glanced over at Doug, smiling as he checked the black coating on his 18-centimeter combat knife, also commercially purchased.

''Yeah, I bet at least eighteen centimeters.''

They had followed Vin's instructions in properly sanding the steel, then Violet's suggestions for choice of spray. The knives had been baked in a still workable furnace deep in the warehouse's basement. Without interrupting the run of his finger over the blade Doug flashed Callie a displeased glare. She took another long look at Violet, then at Ev, and snickered. Ev had practiced and practiced loading himself up for this days in advance, drawing each weapon in turn, reloading, checking for jams. He was absolutely pumped, ready for his first real combat op, or he had been until he finished arranging his gear.

Now he gaped open-mouthed at Violet, the smallest sliver of drool visible on his lip. The syngear and plaskin left little to the imagination, and while his imagination had been fairly generous in the past, he now realized he had been selling her short if anything. Large purple eyes flashed in his direction.

''Play it cool, Ev, play it cool.''

Violet smiled pleasantly and turned back to fitting her various belts and tools, including several vials, a blowgun and darts and a small bandolier of low-therm smoke grenades. Ev's gaze traveled from round eyes to generous chest to ample rear. He suddenly found himself cursing the outfitters who made the baggy, strictly utilitarian clothing she favored even at school.

''So many wasted years.''

Doug was aware that, even last week, he would have been just as apprehensive and awkward as his associates. He wasn't entirely taken aback by the revelation behind Violet's figure, he'd long suspected the selection and training process for the more social of their number gave some weight to physical attractiveness. As well, the indoctrinated had all received physical enhancements, transplants, implants and gene therapy. Regardless of why, Doug knew he would have been taking his weekly allotment of glances at her only days ago.

Instead he found himself uneasy.

Doug searched his thoughts, sure it was due to some flaw, some minor imperfection in their strike plan that his subconscious had noticed.

''Furia.''

The name suddenly leapt into his mind. It wasn't the first time today she'd entered his thoughts. Normally he allowed himself a certain relaxation of his composure when going along with Callie's feigned, or not so feigned, copulation con, and had been hoping to make tonight a special night with her after Wednesday night.

Instead he'd found himself, distracted, almost guilty the entire time, clearly remembering Furia's words.

:''"Listen, uh, I don't think is really going to go anywhere."''

At the time he had agreed and not given it a second thought. But as Doug allowed himself to thoroughly remember the moment, catalogued and stored in his mind, he began to pick out small details he'd missed before. Audio and, to a lesser extent, visual cues that made him doubt it would be their last encounter.

''She seemed more to be convincing herself than talking to me. Yes, considering the incident with Mr. Trelan, I believe she was merely attempting to create an emotional buffer, even an excuse to leave.'' He distinctly remembered pulling her back down against him, and the instant relaxation of her breathing and heartbeat. ''Yes, it was a test, not a planned test, but an unconscious assessment of my attitude towards her.''

Doug felt himself grin as he realized he had passed this unintentional test, and relief he hadn't even known he wanted flowed through him. He lingered just a little longer on the memory, but perhaps too long. Doug realized his mistake only moments before the others did.